


Fire on the Con Floor

by Spinning_Mouse



Series: The Bets the Devil Lost [3]
Category: Daredevil (Comics)
Genre: Fire, a convention, and the scariest thing of all, crowds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 21:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinning_Mouse/pseuds/Spinning_Mouse
Summary: Shockingly, Matt loses another bet. It goes even worse than he expects.





	Fire on the Con Floor

**Author's Note:**

> You don't need to read the comics to understand this, but I did mention Mike Murdock, who is a fictional twin brother Matt once made up to convince his friends Mike was Daredevil, not Matt. Foggy continues to feel embarrassment that it worked.
> 
> (Side note, a new run is about to happen that might mess with this canon a bit, but lets assume old canon exists here for the sake of clarity)  
> (also if you haven't looked up pictures of Matt playing Mike you're missing out)

The first thing Daredevil noticed, of course, was the crowd. Even from outside he could hear and even feel it, the shuffling of hundreds if not thousands of feet and bodies, hundreds of voices rising and falling and mixing together, hundreds of hearts beating to their own symphony, fast and excited complementing the slow and steady. The smell was what you expected out of crowds, full of food and sweat and perfumes and deodorants. A few more unique smells, like cardboard and foam and glue, all drifted throughout the huge building, a sign of the unique nature of this specific crowd. 

Conventions were not really his thing, with or without his mask. Especially ones where every single person felt the need to comment on his “costume.”

Matt cursed to himself as he stood in line, waiting to go in. He’d promised himself not to let this happen again. He’d _promised_.

And here he was, taking a brightly colored convention pass paid for with hard earned money with a nod before being shuffled off to the entrance proper. 

Everyone was funneled through a relatively small double door entrance, guarded on both sides by sour faced individuals leaning over to check that every single person coming inside had the correct pass. Matt made sure to flash his in clear view. The faster he got this over with, the better.

He could still hear Foggy’s voice in his head, still see the shit eating grin as he decided on the best way to humiliate his closest friend, despite Matt’s many reminders of all the times he’d saved the other man’s life. 

“Hey, nice Daredevil dude!”

Matt turned his head slightly towards the source of the unfamiliar voice. Based on the heavy smell of foam and glue and paint, the long wig, and the hammer-shaped object in his hand, Matt guessed it was another Thor cosplayer. He offered the man a weak smile before moving on. 

He had a pretty good idea where he needed to go. Any map of the place was online or laminated, so he’d asked an employee near the entrance. After a little quip about not bringing his glasses since they didn’t work with his costume (not really a lie), she’d finally given him proper directions. The room he was searching for was near the back of the convention, hidden behind the other, more popular and star-studded panel rooms. 

This room had been designated as the costume contest room throughout the con, ranging from high-end professional competition to silly closet-costume shows. Matt, unfortunately, had been forced to register for one of the middle ground competitions, though he used the name “Mike Nelson.” Petty and dumb, maybe, but completely worth it. 

The competition he registered for was one in a series of hero costume contests. Predictably, most were big name heros. Matt had already noticed a few Steve Rogers and Tony Starks and Captain Marvels roaming around. The costumes were all strikingly similar in construction, and some had such good shape he might mistake them for the real thing if he could actually see them. 

It had been a surprise to see his own name-well, one of them-listed among the contests. Foggy had refused to admit how he even knew about it in the first place. 

It was impossible to not eavesdrop while walking through a crowd. There was no such thing as only hearing snatches of conversation for Matt, not when he could still hear the same people talking from the other side of the giant convention building. Without much else to focus on, Matt found himself zoning in on certain voices to keep the rest from driving him insane. It seemed like every few feet there was another group talking about the intricacies of cosplay. He listened to people discuss the best ways to work with foam, asking for extra supplies to hold together ripping seams and drying glue, complimenting costumes and privately criticizing others. Unsurprisingly, there was more than ample judgment on the things people wore, especially on the hero costumes. Every detail was nitpicked, every decision derided and dissected, and much more rarely, praised. Common outfits were sneered at for being boring, unique ones questioned for being strange. 

“Is that supposed to be spider man?”

“No way, it looks all wrong. Plus he’s walking around with a spiderman.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe it’s from a TV show or something?”

“I definitely feel like I’ve seen it somewhere. Never at a con though.”

“Weird.”

Matt, despite his best efforts, could not figure out which person they were talking about. It didn’t help that he got stopped just a few feet later by an excited girl sporting some sort of large wings made out of wire and stretched cloth. 

“Ohmygod that’s such an awesome Daredevil outfit, can we get your picture?”

“Uh.”

She didn’t wait for a coherent answer before backing up and whipping out a phone. Matt managed something he hoped approximated a smile, and then she was done, phone placed back into a pocket. 

“Thank you so much!”

With that, she spun around to leave, nearly smacking Matt in the face with her wings in the process. She was quick to disappear, leaving Matt alone and slightly off balance. 

_Either I shouldn’t have let her do that, or I should have posed._

To his surprise, he quickly got another chance when another person stopped them, a couple of their friends hanging out a couple feet back. There was a moment of panic as he wondered what to do. How do you pose naturally? What should he do? Did this look good or just stupid? Should he even be posing for a picture in the first place?

“Thanks, uh-what’s your name?” The person asked with a smile, phone hanging in the air. Their thumb hadn’t moved over the phone yet, so no picture. 

His name?

He smiled, starting slow, but speeding up as it pulled into a sharp grin. 

“Mike,” He responded with a small bow, flowing into a sort of half crouch, hand resting on his billy clubs (that security had never checked, he suddenly realized in a moment of worry-tinted humor). The person laughed at the pose, but not in a mean way, clearly pleased as their thumb brushed over their phone’s screen. 

“Thanks!” they called again. As they gave a goodbye wave, however, a part of their cosplay came apart, a heavy piece of plastic tearing from it’s base. Matt-or Mike-reacted to the sound of glue ripping apart, lunging forward to grab the plastic piece in an effortless catch. 

He offered another smile to the photographer as he straightened and handed it back. He didn’t miss the small catch in their breath and slight stutter as their heartbeat moved a little faster. It only made him smile more.

Matt debated, as he once again began his slow march to humiliation, if telling Foggy any of that would be a good or bad decision. 

He whistled as he walked, winked a couple of times before remembering nobody could see it, and posed for a few more pictures. His personal favorite was one with a spiderman, including a couple of fake action shots. The fake spiderman’s friend was in a couple of shots. It was never completely clear who he was supposed to be, but Matt had a few sneaking suspicions that seemed better left unsaid. 

Foggy had never said he couldn’t have _any_ fun.

Eventually Matt found the correct room, though he owed that mostly to the small crowd of Captain Marvel cosplayers his radar sense had found all bunched together behind a large curtain framing a stage area. It wasn’t a huge room, but the actual audience was small, so it seemed to work out well enough. 

_Time to wait, I guess._

He leaned against a wall just outside the room, sliding down to the floor like so many others around him. He perked up a little each time somebody showed up playing with plastic billy clubs or adjusting horns on top of masks. It was almost surreal watching the horde of Daredevils slowly gather. If only there were that many on the streets, they could put the entirety of the avengers out of a job.

A smirk cut across his face at the thought. It was probably the kind that would make Foggy nervous, his voice taking on that very particular tone only Foggy could make when he was certain Matt was about to do something stupid.

Matt heard that tone a lot.

The thing was, though, smiles never lasted very long for Matt Murdock. There was always something wrong, a crime to stop, work to do, _something_. It was no different now. 

The smell was so faint he nearly missed it, hidden between the much stronger scents of the con. It took a moment for his brain to recognize it, to parse through his mental library until he found the reason it bothered him so much so quickly. 

It was the smell of something burning.

Not food, though. Matt never burned food; the smell could make him gag when it came from other apartments, let alone his own kitchen. Still, he knew the difference, the subtleties between burning chicken and burning wood. This one made him think of burning cloth.

The smile slid down as his body pushed up. He made his way through the crowd, ignoring cries of displeasure as he unceremoniously pushed people to the side. 

Even now, after all these years, some instinctive reflexes reared their heads when he focused like this, regardless of how little they helped. His eyes closed as he centered on his nose. It made no difference, of course, there was nothing it could change, but he could never help himself. 

He pushed out his radar sense at the same time. The smell took him on a strange journey through employee-only areas that funneled into a small hallway running behind some of the larger meeting rooms. It was a strange design, one that seemed like an awkward addition to an otherwise nice building. An extension designed for an emergency exit, as far as he could gather. Maybe added on after the original design had been set in an attempt to meet certain safety standards. 

It couldn’t have taken Matt even a full minute before he ‘saw’ the heat radiating from a small, flickering flame that licked along the carpet floor and halfway up the wall. So it had been burning carpet he had noticed before. It was worse now, far worse, a suffocating stench of burning carpet and plastic floating into the ceiling with the smoke. 

The walls were thin. Even a person with normal hearing would likely notice the sounds on the other side. It was with a little chagrin Matt was forced to admit he’d been taken on a wild hunt just to end up behind the room holding the costume contests. Finishing up with the Captain Marvels, from what he could tell. 

The flame was just around a corner, next to a back door probably meant to be an quicker path to an emergency exit. Matt crouched slightly as he got closer, moving as silently as he could. 

As concerning as the fire was-and the complete lack of response from the sprinkler system-more worrisome was the shape next to the fire. It radiated its own heat, dull and contained, but still there. Close enough to enjoy the heat and far away enough to make a break for it if they needed to.

Part of Matt couldn’t quite believe that he’d come across an arsonist here. Crowded places always attracted a certain kind of crazy, but it’s not like it happened _all_ the time. Not to normal people. There was no way most people experienced this level of crazy everywhere they went. It just wasn’t statistically possible. 

The rest of Matt was surprised it was only one arsonist.

He crouched as he got closer, keeping each step silent and his body tilted sideways to keep it invisible for longer. He kept an ear to the sounds of the arsonist, struggling to ignore the increasingly overpowering stench of burning in order to properly hear the heartbeat. A little fast; excitement, maybe? No sudden changes, no sharp movements signifying they’d noticed a change. 

Perfect. 

The way the man was turned, there was no good angle to get any closer. Matt dealt with this in a traditional way, charging forward and jumping into a tackle. He tried his best to aim away from the fire, but shockingly, the arsonist did not take kindly to being jumped. The man was thin and lanky, with none of the muscle of a fighter. Still, adrenaline is a hell of thing.

The criminal reacted strongly, fighting the tackle until they hit the ground, causing the two to land on their sides, instead of with Matt on top like originally planned. The fire licked at Matt’s back, so hot he couldn’t tell if it was burning through his suit or not. He couldn’t help but cry out in pain through gritted teeth.

There was nowhere to move with the way he gripped his quarry, who continued to lash out in shock and anger. His blows didn’t do much. Matt was used to much worse and barely registered most of the hits as anything more than an annoyance.

Still, they were an annoyance pushing him even more into the fire. He tightened his grip on the other man and pushed with his entire body, forcing the two to roll over, away from the flames. It was an immediate relief to be even just a couple feet away. A good sign his suit hadn’t actually caught on fire. His back stung, but it was bearable. 

“Would you _stop_ ,” Matt grunted. Now the hits and kicks really were starting to hurt. The man even lunged to bite him, and he just pushed his arm down onto the other man’s neck, forcing his head to the ground. He watched the arsonist’s eyes go wide as his breathing got short. Still, he wouldn’t stop, reaching up with free hands to smack and scratch while his legs desperately flailed around trying to hit from behind.

There was one sure way to make it stop. A bit of a risk, but Matt had a lot of experience. For a moment he pulled back until his hand barely rested on the arsonist’s neck. His other hand freed itself completely.

The man’s eyes changed to something more relieved and determined. 

_Oh no,_ Matt thought, _the poor bastard thinks he’s winning._

It felt like an act of mercy to pull his free hand back, ball it into a fist, and bring it back down. He didn’t hit as hard as he could, but it was more than enough to knock the man out in a single shot. His entire body went slack in a moment, finally giving Matt a proper chance to breathe. 

Well, it would if he wasn’t breathing smoke. 

Right. He should do something about that.

He could still hear the arsonist’s heartbeat and shallow breathing, so he left him on the ground, standing up as he cast out his radar sense. No alarms had gone off, no sprinkler system, so he couldn’t rely on that. The fire was still pretty small; nobody beyond the walls had even noticed it yet. Still, it was getting close to being as tall as Matt. How long until it burnt through the weak wall? He couldn’t just stamp it out with his feet.

There was no extra cloth just laying around. Matt was hardly wearing a jacket. Maybe-

Oh.

Well.

The arsonist was wearing a jacket. A thin one, but still. It’s not like he needed it anyway, not in this warm weather.

Unceremoniously, Matt ripped the jacket off of the unconscious man. Wielding it like a shield, he threw himself on the fire, pressing and hitting as hard as he dared to try and put it out. It worked, if a little more slowly than he liked. A few more parts of his suit started feeling uncomfortably warm from the heat and stray bits of flickering flames and thick, hot smoke. 

He held his breath as much as possible through the entire thing, only taking quick and shallow ones to keep himself going. Finally, the fire started to dissipate until only a small flame remained on the ground. With a sigh of relief, he dropped the now ruined jacket on the fire and stomped it out. 

The floor and walls were burned black and the ceiling stained from the smoke. Matt could still feel the heat radiating from those spots. He was starting to feel a little dizzy from the smell. 

“Now it’s time for the Daredevil costume contest! Daredevils, please line up, and walk out on stage when your name is called!”

_Shit._

He glanced at the arsonist, then at the back door leading into the contest room. One more glance at the arsonist and he made a quick decision.

Tying the man up with his own jacket was quick work. The man made a few noises as he was moved to the opposite side of the hallway, so Matt thoroughly-and quickly-checked all of his pockets, finding a switchblade and a packet of matches. Not exactly a professional job. 

He tossed them a couple yards away from both the snubbed out fire and the man who had started it. He didn’t want to get rid of it completely so the police would have something to look at, at least.

Of course that would have to wait a few minutes. He refused to give Foggy the satisfaction of his failure or excuses. Not after all the comments he got the last few times.

Carefully, he stepped in through the back door. A couple of cosplayers started at his presence, but quickly turned away when they saw what he was wearing. Matt took a moment to listen in before stepping up to the small group.

They were on the “Ls” now. He wasn’t too late then.

“Hey.”

Someone next to him-a woman, based on the voice- leaned in and whispered.

“You got any of your supplies on you?”

“...Supplies?” Matt asked, a little warily. 

“Yeah. I love the grime effect you’ve got going but it’s super uneven. How did you even get that much on your back? You should probably take a second to even that out before they call your name. I’ll help if you want.” There was something painfully sincere in her voice, and Matt couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m good, but thanks.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged and stepped back again.

Kind of her to help, but come on, who could beat the _real_ Daredevil in a costume contest?

***

“Congratulations to Kate Smith for winning the Daredevil Costume contest!”

Kate-the same girl who’d called out his “uneven grime”-laughed and thanked the judges profusely for her small cash prize and cheap ribbon. The rest of the cosplayers began to disperse, grumbling as the left and made room for the Thors.

Matt walked over to her, trying to give as sincere a smile as possible.

“I told you to even if out,” she said, “it would have made the whole thing look perfect.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

He paused for a moment, listening. The arsonist was definitely awake.

“Hey, do you mind if i borrow your phone for a moment? I don’t have mine on me and I need to make a call.”

Despite being slightly baffled, she handed over the phone. As he made the call, discussing details with the police and feeling her face go red and her jaw drop in shock as the pieces fell into place, the only thing Matt could really think about was Foggy.

He would never let this go. _Never._

Matt was determined that this time, this would _really_ be the last time he lost a bet to Foggy, or even made one with him.

That was a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> These dumb one shots are so weirdly cathartic I hope it's a fun, silly little read for y'all


End file.
